Elsa's Reverie
by A Caccia Di Stelle
Summary: Jack and Elsa had perfected pouring so much into just a few seconds. They spoke with gazes, touches, rather than words. It was why every move they made was so significant, so surreal. He loved it, and she was addicted to it. Read and review please.


"You're still awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," Elsa said quietly. She didn't look back as Jack approached. He sat down beside her, shifting to where their sides were pressed comfortably close. Her warmth seeped into his chilled skin.

"Seems like you never sleep anymore," he said. It was a joke, but it was true. She was perpetually awake. He honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd been asleep while he visited.

"I don't think I do," she admitted, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't answer right away, pressing his face into her hair; it smelled oddly of frost and warmth twined with hints of chocolate. With no image to uphold, Elsa freed her hair from its tight braid so that it fell freely around her shoulders. He raised his hand, running his fingers through the curled waves.

"What's on your mind, Elsa?" He breathed quietly. She shivered against him, raising her head to meet his eyes. While hers were dark and full, like the rolling skies of nightfall, his were light and weightless, like that of a fresh morning.

"I can't control it," she whispered. To Jack, with only the moon as a witness, she voiced her concerns. He watched her for a long moment, his eyes boring into her own. He saw her fear and anxiety, the countless worries that circled her and scared her.

"You're doing fine right now," he said. The portion of the roof they occupied was frosted, yes, but that was a very small thing compared to past results of her stress.

"Because you're here," she responded.

"I've only been here for a few minutes," he laughed. "Elsa, you've been doing well for a long, long time. The winter storms this year were all completely natural –you played no part in any of it."

"You did," she smiled for moment. It fell as she said, "No one said it, but I know many people believed this winter's severity was my fault."

"If it had been you, it would have been a lot worse." Jack scoffed. He spoke confidently –Elsa was a very, very powerful girl. Storms this year had been bad, yes, but nothing compared to what she could have done. "A lot of people in your kingdom need to realize winter is still an annual season and it will always affect them. It was like that before you, and it will be like that after you."

"It's easier to blame me," she sighed, shifting to lie back on the roof. He followed suit, rolling onto his side so he could see her. She reached out to take his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Yes, it is." He nodded. His thumb stroked the back of her hand for a few moments before he shook his hand from hers, placing it instead on her cheek. "Where is all of this coming from?"

She turned her head to kiss his palm gently. Her lips moved softly over the pads of his palm. He watched her, tracing her lips with his thumb. Her lips were his favorite kind of velvet –he was intoxicated by the mere sight.

"Answer me," he said quietly, moving to hover over her. She slipped her hands beneath his sweatshirt, expanding her fingers over his chest and then traveling to his back. All the while her eyes were intense and focused on his face.

She didn't answer him.

Instead, she pushed down on his back. He came to her easily, brushing his lips across her own.

"Elsa," he whispered close to her ear, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. His teeth ghosted over her perfect skin, and then he pulled away to meet her eyes again. "What's wrong?"

She kissed him fully this time, coaxing his mouth open with her own. His tongue darted into her mouth, stealing her breath away. Around them, ice expanded slowly over the tiles of the roof. She slid her tongue against his, moving her lips to match the form of his. He shivered when her nails bit into his skin, pressing his teeth into her bottom lip in response.

Their kisses were always, ironically, quick and hot. Jack and Elsa had perfected pouring so much into just a few seconds. They spoke with gazes, touches, rather than words. It was why every move they made was so significant, so surreal. He loved it, and she was addicted to it.

He broke away, dusting kisses over her cheek, jaw, and neck. She slid her hands out of his sweatshirt, moving them to his hair. While she caught her breath, her fingers stroked through his hair soothingly. When her breathing was steady, she closed her eyes and confessed:

"I'm getting married."

He bit her. She winced slightly, but welcomed the sting. It sent a soft hum of pleasure into her blood. He ceased nibbling on her neck, moving to watch her face. Her eyes were still closed.

"I know," he whispered. His weight was lightening, his chill disappearing.

"Jack-" she started to say, but it was too late. Her eyes opened and she was back in her own bed, a thin layer of frost coating the room –a typical result of the dream.

"That boy again," she said to herself as she pushed the blankets back and stood. He had occupied her dreams for months on end now. At first, she'd been weary –she'd even tried to stop sleeping for a bit. After a while, however, she'd accepted it. The time she spent with him, fabricated as it was, was an important part of her serenity. He, or the idea of him, had become someone, something, very, very significant to her. If he were real, she would go as far as to say she loved him.

"But he's not real," she said quietly as she moved to stand in front of her mirror. She was in the midst of pulling her hair up when a soft, red circle above her collar bone caught her eye. As she peered closer, she realized the red circle was teeth marks. "How…" She trailed off as she recalled her dream and the sting of Jack's bite when she'd mentioned her impending marriage. It had stung.

She brushed her fingers over the marks, convinced she was imagining them, or perhaps still dreaming. They couldn't be there… That would mean Jack had actually bit her… And if Jack had actually bit her, then…

The ribbon Elsa had been using to pull her hair up with drifted to the ground, forgotten.


End file.
